Perhaps you worried that the Ocean author had disappeared into the now thin and crispy Brittany air? (It is crispy now. It is at its crispest. In the morning, we awoke to a thin layer of frost.)
No, not that. But I’ll say this for now: life seemed pretty easy up there, in Brittany, until the travel gods decided to stir things up a bit for us. Suddenly, it all became rather tricky. Truly, were it not for the lovely old ladies (and I mean old: many decades older than Ed or myself) on the water’s edge outside of Dinan, and were it not for the angelic somewhat younger woman outside the Gare Montparnasse in Paris, Ed and I would not have had the good outcome that we can, in fact, boast of now, at the end of out trip here.
I cannot write about it at the moment. I am in a lovely albeit tiny hotel in Paris and the Eiffel Tower is just minutes away and all is (finally) calm, all is bright, or so they say. But I haven’t the spare minutes to even look at the Tower. I am catching my breath and packing my bag so that we can pick up our flights out of here soon. (Ed is sleeping. Adventure or not, a day, for him, cannot end without a decent spell of sleep.)
I’ll resume tomorrow. Come back then. I’ll explain why it is that you should always be prepared for mishaps. And you should, when traveling, take them with a smile. They are, after all, what you remember years from now when you think about that December trip to Brittany....
night comes quickly by the River Rance
...followed by a few hours in Paris...
driving in at dawn